Old and New

New class, brand new school,

Old ways and new ways combined

Harmony in action.

new school 2 new school 3 new school new school 4

 

 

 

 

 

 

Monday saw me move into this wonderful new school building. We’ve been going at it solid for three days, unpacking and setting up again, getting prepped for the return of the children today who scored three days off in the move. I’ve been climbing all over furniture hanging frieze paper on to fresh, new walls.

From this..

old school

Rotting from inside,

Beneath papered coverings,

Old gone very wrong.

The dilapidated decant building used while the new school was being built. What lies beneath the paperwork, right enough. Uncovered in all its glory while we stripped every inch of the old bare to salvage the worthwhile. January has been a different sort of job, teaching while packing and uncovering the horrors beneath. The Scottish Parliament has been investing in new schools the length and breadth of the country. Investing in the future. In our children. I, for one, am extremely thankful that some old things, long past their sell-by-date, will soon be demolished. It is possible to keep the old if we care for it. And it’s beneficial. The above fits no criteria worthy of retention.

phone 29 -1-15 027

Before first footprints,

Aged in fresh fallen snow,

Serenity known.

I took this from my bedroom in the early hours of this morning with my new camera phone, without a flash, on night time smart-setting or something that this auld bugger doesn’t quite get yet. But I like old and new. And I liked the results. About four minutes from here is my youngest daughter’s lovely new school at which I’m teaching for the year. Falling out of bed now. With the snow. Old(er!) and young, hand in hand, as off we walk to school. 🙂

By Silken Threads

Unrivalled, the spinner,

intent on the task,

exuding,

controlling the yarn,

Four to the left,

four to the right,

light foosteps,

spinneret charm.

Tangled the cables,

coiled for effect,

cushioned to nest,

to ensnare,

Sonar, so plucked,

message relayed,

advancement of mate

with a dare.

Captvity calls,

tightened the threads,

matured in

hungering thirst,

Escape impossible,

tho’ eyes all around,

serviced, betrayed

by bloodlust.

Filigree’d netting,

coating of tack,

a lick and a spit,

paint the web,

Ravelled in silk,

by finest cord bound,

anaesthetised, numbed,

not yet dead.